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Friday, December 21, 2012

(My blog is not only about funny parts of my life but also where I feature my short stories. This short story was inspired by real events but I’ve protected the name of the guilty.)

"I am calling the cops," she yelled over her shoulder. Her fingers holding open the blinds as she peaked through the slats. "It's theft. They're stealing people's property" she informed him.

He pulled his gaze away from the TV screen toward his wife who was standing in front of the big Bay window in their front room. He knew better than to argue with her once she got something into her mind.

"If I see them doing it next week, I am calling the cops." She pulled her fingers away from the blinds and walked back to the TV room. Her husband was in between watching his favourite show and snoozing during the commercials. "It really bugs me to see them getting away with it." He nodded in agreement although he never really heard what she said. "You're not even listening to me!" she yelled. He jolted awake. "I am listening. I am listening. You're calling the police."

"It is theft you know. People put their recycling out every week thinking the City garbage people are picking it up. They don't realize that those thieves are going around after dark taking the bottles and turning them in for money. I've seen them do it several times now."

"It's not really theft dear. People are throwing it out. It's just garbage. Who cares as long as someone takes it."

"Who cares?" she screamed at him. "Everyone cares! People go through a lot of trouble to sort their recycling and put it out. They wouldn't do it if they knew someone was stealing it and profiting from it."

"People don't really care" he sighed. "I am going to bed. I am exhausted and I have to get up early." He pulled himself out of his recliner and staggered to the bedroom. She sat back on the couch fuming. "He has no backbone that's the problem" she thought. This was clearly an issue she would take on by herself.

The next morning she stood in the big Bay window watching her husband pull out of the driveway. She sipped her coffee while peering through the open blinds. She heard the screen door of the next door neighbour's house slam close and saw her walking to the end of the driveway holding two full green garbage bags. She slammed her cup on the coffee table, spilling some of its contents over the table. She didn't take notice. She ran to the front door, grabbed the two blue bags of recycling, opened the door and quickly walked to the end of the driveway. She anxiously darted her eyes over toward the house next door hoping to see her neighbour. The screen door opened again and the neighbour came out holding two blue recycling bags full of plastic bottles.

"Good morning!" she called and the startled neighbour looked up and smiled. "Good morning" she called back. She wasn't losing this opportunity and broke into a jog toward the neighbour as if she had important news to share.

"Do you put out much recycling?" She inquired. "Not a lot" the neighbour responded. "Well, I just thought you should know that someone has been stealing the recycling bottles from our neighbourhood. I wrote down his licence plate number and I am going to call the police if I seem him again. You can't trust these people you know" she spoke like an expert on the subject.

The neighbour looked at her watch making it known she was on a time limit and had to get to work. She couldn't help but ask, "These people? Which people?"

She looked across the carefully manicured lawn and knew exactly what people she was talking about. People like she used to be growing up. Poor people.

"Well, he drives a beat up old pick up truck. I think it's dark blue or black. I'll find out for sure next week because I'll take a picture to show the police."

"The police?" the neighbour inquired. "Yes. It's theft" she informed her. "Don't you think the police have more important things to do?" She cocked her head to one side like a dog. "No, I don't. That's what they are there for. To protect our neighbourhoods. These people are turning that recycling in and making money off it."

The neighbour lifted her full blue bag of plastic bottles. "This whole bag wouldn't get you $2.00." Then she remembered something. "He's not stealing. The lady across the street knows him. He collects the bottles in the night time because he works during the day at Canadian Tire or Walmart or somewhere like that. He brings them to the recycling depot because he has a daughter who has a physical disability. I can't remember what kind but anyway, he is saving for a wheel chair for her."

"That's what government is for! He shouldn't be stealing from us." The neighbour was stunned. "It's stuff we throw out. He's trying to help his child the only way he knows how."

She locked eyes with her neighbour. "Stealing from us is the only way he knows how? That's why I don't want those kinds of people going around our neighbourhood at night when we are sleeping."

"Do you mean poor people or disabled people?" The neighbour challenged her. "You've obviously never been poor. If you have nothing better to do with your life than peek out through your blinds and spy on your neighbourhood maybe you should find something productive to fill your life with."

She was appalled. How dare the neighbour talk to her like that. She had lived on this street for almost 30 years. She had seen four families live in the house next door. Each one more obnoxious than the last.

"I knew when I saw you moving in that you were no better than that crowd of hoodlums that moved out" she stomped toward her front door. This would upset her whole day. Maybe her whole week. She began to grind her teeth thinking if her husband had supported her on this issue last night she wouldn't be having this conversation with the neighbour.

She decided he would hear about it tonight.

"Maybe you feel sorry for those people but I don't" she yelled over her shoulder at her neighbour.

"Maybe you should look at those people and say ‘There but for the Grace of God go I’" the neighbour yelled back.

Imagine bringing God up to her she thought. Sure she ran the church. She was there every week giving money and her valuable time. Not too much though because you know it's never enough for those people. They always wanted more.

Besides they never once thanked her in the Sunday bulletin for all the good work she does. She decided then and there to call the Church secretary that day and complain.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

I actually do have it in the bag! My chiropractor tells me every week.

At each visit he lifts my purse and weighs it. He once clocked it in at 9 pounds.

It seems my purse and my butt have something in common, they are both getting bigger with age!
I have this weird attraction to big purses. The bigger the better. My purse is one size smaller than an airplane carry-on and one size bigger than a Sobey's bag.

My doctor told me to get rid of the big bags and downsize... and I did. I took everything out of my big bag and switched to a compact model. At my next visit the doctor noted the smaller purse then lifted it. "It still weighs as much as a small child!" she scolded me."It's smaller" I protested. "But you didn't lose any of the content! You don't need all the stuff in here!" she informs me.

So that night, I emptied the contents on top of my bed. My wallet weighed the most. So I decided to start there. Tucked in one side - 15 pictures of my kids. Starting with my son's kindergarten picture (He graduates from high school in June.) Then various Walmart Christmas poses of the kids together, me and hubby, hubby and kids, me and kids, etc. It dawned on me, I need to buy a photo album. They all have to go, except the latest pictures of the kids and the picture of me and hubby wearing cowboy hats, and the one of daughter wearing the angel wings and son's kindergarten picture. All the rest are going in a photo album.

On the other side of the wallet are receipts. Receipts from Walmart, Canadian Tire, Sobey's, Lawton's, etc. Apparently I shop a lot. The latest bill was from yesterday, so I need to keep that just in case I need to return that $7.00 T-shirt to Walmart. The oldest one was from 2010. A toaster I bought at Canadian Tire. I wonder if they'll take it back? I do have the bill!

I threw out a wad of bills that could choke a horse. Including the one for the $7.00 T-shirt from Walmart. If it falls apart I am just going to have to suck it up.

On the outside of the wallet is the zipper compartment that is swollen like a fat lip. I pour out the change and count $13.75. Lots of pennies. Am I the only one still using pennies? I blame most of my back problems on the Canadian Mint. Carrying around these loonies and toonies is hard work. I need to keep the change for coffee and parking meters. I put the pennies in my daughter's piggy bank.

Behind the zipper is a long slot for paper money. There's none there. Who carries money anymore? It's just an ATM and credit card. I need to keep both.

Now my wallet is about three pounds lighter.

On to the make-up bag.

It's full with blush, concealer, mascara, powder and four different colour lipsticks. It just occurred to me, it's the first time I've opened this make-up bag in about a year! I never use this make-up. I put it on in the morning at my make-up dresser and don't touch it again till later in the day. (I keep the necessities - lipstick and face power in a desk drawer at work.) I never use this make-up bag but I can't let it go. The purse seems lop-sided without it. I may need it someday. I know if I take it out tonight I'll go looking for it tomorrow. I may need to do a total make-over while waiting at a red light. I decide to take out three lipsticks but the bag stays.

At the bottom of the purse is an endless mess of tissues, Tic-tacs, nail-files, more receipts, more pennies, two more lipsticks. How did I become "The Old bag Lady?" My Mother once found a harmer and screw driver in hers.

I once found the TV remote in my purse. It had been missing for about a week. We searched every chair cushion and nook and cranny in the house but couldn't find it. I was at the check-out at Sobey's when I reached in to grab my wallet and pulled out the remote.

The truth is, you don't know what you're going to find in my purse when you put your hand in. I could be stranded on a desert island for months and survive on what's in my purse. It would be based on a strict diet of Tic-tacs and Lifesavers, my make-up would be perfect but hubby would be pissed that he finally got months of uninterrupted TV but couldn't change the channels.

So I down-sized to a "lighter" model. I can't give up the big purses, size does matter to a woman too. But I lost about five pounds in the process. I can't wait to visit my doctor to see what she has to say about my sudden weight-loss. My back does feel better.

I am Funny Like That

Helen C. Escott retired from the world renowned Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) in 2014 as the Senior Communications Strategist for Newfoundland and Labrador. Before joining the RCMP she worked in the media for 13 years (OZ FM/ VOCM/ CJYQ) in various positions including reporter, on-air personality, marketing and promotions.

In Retirement, Escott writes a blog called “I am Funny Like That” and has over 123,000 readers worldwide. Now this hysterical blog has come to life a witty book! It ranked on Amazon’s bestsellers list as #6 in Kindle Store and #20 in Books.

Escott has a unique perspective on life and a funny way of looking at it. From wearing granny panties to Brazilians to capturing the essence of a moment in a person’s life. Escott will make you laugh out loud and feel better about yourself. She is the best friend you have always wanted and the life of the party. You will be glad you invited her into your life.

If you have thrown your back out taking off Spanx, planned your husband's murder in your head or screamed through a Brazilian, this book is for you.

If you need a good laugh, or need to smile, this book is better than Prozac it will make you laugh out loud for days after reading it. 123,000 blog readers can't be wrong! Join in the laughter.